Arcadia [h.s.]

Chapter 27

Trigger warning: self-harm.

 I don't want to be alone / when I am so far from my home
-
Arcadia

Harry had been knocking on Noel's door for the last few minutes.

"Noel, you're worrying people," he said boldly, "open the door."

Silence.

The silence was so loud he wondered if he should be worried about what he'd find when he got inside. But, when Cait addressed that concern, she'd noted that Noel was opening her messages and leaving them on read.

But still, was she really capable of something like that?

He didn't know. He didn't know her at all. And even though this angered him, he couldn't leave her like this— whatever state she was in.

So, he took out his wallet, grabbed a credit card, and began to work on the door. He held the knob while using the card to slip between the crease where the door met the strike, pushing the card enough to move the latch and open the door.

It creaked as he walked in, and the first thing he did was observe the living room and kitchen which were open concept. But there was nothing there, just sparkly granite countertops and pearly white carpets and perfectly tucked couch pillows. Nothing in here had been used in days.

He ran a hand through his hair and made his way to her bedroom. On his way, he peered into the bathroom where he observed another clean space. Also not touched.

Finally, he got to her room where he saw what could only be Noel under a huge duvet. All that could be seen were a few strands of hair and the subtle rise and fall of her body under the cover.

He sighed in relief.

"Noel."

No response. As expected.

He decided to make his way around to the other side of the bed where she faced a window, dimmed by black sheer curtains.

The sight of her was most unexpected. The lids of her eyes were open, dull pupils glued to the window, while strands of hair stuck to her sweaty temples. Her nose looked as if it had blown a thousand tissues and her eyes were the same shade of red.

She didn't look at him, didn't even try.

"Hey," Harry mumbled, crouching down to get on his knees so that he was at eye level with her. He hadn't felt concerned in a long time but this was definitely what he remembered it feeling like.

When he brought a hand to her cheek, she finally looked at him. But, she was expressionless. It was like looking at the Mona Lisa— had she been laced with a tinge of hostility. Her lips barely moved, but only to swallow.

"What's wrong, Noel?" He muttered, fearing that if he spoke too loud, she'd break.

She didn't say anything, just stared at him. This time, her brows furrowed and her lips trembled as if holding in an impending cry. She didn't cry, though her eyes did well up.

"Leave me alone," she decided to sigh and close her eyelids, at last.

"You know I won't do that."